


Chemicals and Clues

by CavannaRose



Series: Dakota North Investigations [3]
Category: Dakota North - Fandom, Dakota North Investigations, Daredevil (Comics), Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Clues, Gen, Investigations, Murder, Outmatched hero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-08 14:25:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14696061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: The latest investigation pits Dakota up against someone way beyond her wheelhouse. How will the plucky PI manage?





	1. Chapter 1

Dakota slammed the phone down, swearing lightly under her breath as she booted up her computer, an angry scowl marring her usually pleasant face. Pulling up the news article she scanned the details, another foul word escaping her lips. She was going on nothing but her gut instinct, but it told her that this latest string of murders were linked, she just had to find what the connector was. She dismissed the article, and instead pulled up another window, typing in passwords until the crime scene footage was displayed. With a few more keystrokes she brought up half a dozen more files, quickly dismissing three of them. They lacked the... finesse of the one from the other evening.  
  
She stared at the screen for several long minutes, pen tapping against the pad of paper on her desk as she reviewed the details. The work was expertly done, with no telltale signs of the culprit, which was why she felt they were connected. Frustrated she leaned back in her chair, chewing on the back end of the pen as she thought. Maybe she was tackling this from the wrong angle. Maybe the culprit wasn't as important as the victims.   
  
Pen in her mouth she leaned forward again, bringing up professional profiles on the victims, lists of awards and accolades, professional accomplishments, areas of expertise. As she perused the business end of the world, a sneaking suspicion crept over her and she pulled up the police reports once more, dismissing one of them, and bringing up a different one, not from the half dozen she had originally brought up.  
  
Bingo.  
  
A chemical manufacturer. A professor of advanced biochemistry. A gentleman that bought and sold high grade injection technology. A jingle writer that had made an off-colour joke about a goblin. It was all fitting together much nicer than she had thought, painting a picture in her mind. For a moment, she thought about contacting help, someone with a bit more oomph than a pair of pistols and detective licence, but she dismissed that idea. She didn't have any real proof, not yet.  
  
Closing the police files and the business magazine articles, she pulled up an e-vite she'd received from an old friend, chewing her lip in contemplation. The building the little art exhibition was taken place with was owned by a man she knew had stock in a rather aggressive pharmaceutical company that had been making waves lately. If her hunch was right, and she trusted her gut, this guy would be on the target list for whomever was conducting this cleanup operation. The gala was tomorrow, which didn't leave her much time.  
  
Grabbing a stale bagel from the office kitchen on the way out the door, Dakota hopped on her bike and headed downtown. Maybe she could get a meeting with Charles Ainsley today. She just knew if she could get inside his office she would have at least some of the missing pieces to this puzzle.

 

*~~*~~~*~~*

 

Dakota's bike roars down the street, pulling up in front of the gallery building about an hour before close. It had taken a few phone calls, and turning in a hard won favour, but the guy was going to meet her here and actually hear her out, so that was decidedly progress. The detective pulled off her helmet, shaking out her long red hair before adjusting her jacket to cover the holster at her back. She'd left behind the hip holster, not really expecting trouble here today. Of course, experience suggested that that was when trouble showed up. Shrugging the dark thought away, she examined the building with a sharp eye.

The gallery had a rudimentary security system from what she could see. One camera facing out over the street, and that made her frown. The guy was apparently careless, or cheap. Either or suggested their meeting wasn't going to leave Dakota with that warm and fuzzy feeling in her stomach. A few minutes later a sleek black car pulled up behind her bike, and a slightly older gentleman got out, maybe early 50s, with slicked back blonde hair and a well-cut suit. Smiling, he offered her a hand, and she took the time to notice that his manicure had taken a lot less wear and tear than her own.

"Mr Ainsley, I presume? Thank you for coming all the way out here to meet me a day early. I think we both have some information that will benefit the other."

"Please, call me Charles, dear. Come on up to the office, you seemed rather determined on the phone."

Dakota followed the man into the building, examining him from behind. The man certainly was impressed with himself, expensive suit, charming air, but she could tell by the fall of his jacket that there was something heavy in the left breast pocket, and she was willing to bet any money it was a gun. Best to call him on it right away.

"Do you have a concealed carry license, Mister Ainsley? Or are you perhaps already expecting trouble."

He turned back towards the detective, a surprised look on his face. "I didn't think it was obvious..." He gave her a very charming and sheepish smile. "You sounded so earnest on the phone, I thought it best to be a little prepared myself." He patted the jacket pocket and shrugged. "I was a Boy Scout, after all."

"Hmm, I just bet you were."

The pair moved through the gallery quickly, and Ainsley led her to an elevator at the back of the display floor. "Come on up to the office, and I will give you whatever details you need to catch this crook, Miss North."


	2. Chapter 2

The office was so stereo-typically overcompensatingly male Dakota had to work to hide her smirk, even though all she wanted to do was laugh at the man, though she couldn't keep the amused smirk off her face. He had it all. The massive desk and chair, uncomfortable seats for visitors, sports memorabilia on a side display. It was kind of sad, really.

Ainsley gestured to one of the chairs as he leaned against his desk. "Sit, Miss North."

Sighing she pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment, gathering what little tact she could muster. "Listen, I am not going to play these power dynamic games with you, I honestly don't have the patience and I don't think you have the time. I've identified what I believe are three professional murders, and based on what I can extrapolate from the case files, you are likely to be next on the list."

Ainsley frowned at her, tapping his fingers on the desk. "So you said on the phone, but I am not sure what brings you to that conclusion. Certainly I am a wealthy man, and assembling that kind of wealth one tends to acquire enemies, but I haven't even heard of these other three gentlemen."

"I can't protect you if you won't be honest with me, Mister Ainsley. It's a matter of public record to know that you were a scientist before you went into the pharmaceutical business. I had to do some checking, but the other gents had all been avid science majors in their youth as well." Reaching into her back pocket she pulled out a folded piece of paper and tossed it on the desk beside the man.

A look of irritation crossed the magnate's face, but he picked up the paper, unfolding it to reveal a photocopy of a clubs page from an old yearbook. "Science fairs aren't a big thing here anymore, Mister Ainsley, but when they were they kept great records, especially when the subject matter was sensational. Chemically-induced genetic manipulation is a pretty impressive feat for a bunch of college kids, but the real surprise is that they never did anything with it, nor, as far as my records reveal, did they ever speak to each other again after they one the blue ribbon. Care to explain?"

The business man's face shuttered, all expression wiping from it. "Miss North, I believe you should go now."

"I don't agree. What happened between the four of you, Mister Ainsley? Who scared you all so much that most of you switched majors? I am a detective, and if you help me we can get to the bottom of this, and maybe find out who had your old friends killed."


	3. Chapter 3

Ainsley fell back into his chair, rubbing his temples and staring at the wall just above Dakota's head for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. Finally he sighed and shook his head. Deciding it was best to just give in and tell the woman what he knew. "Honestly, detective, I haven't thought about that old fair project in years, but it seems old ghosts are determined to crawl out of the wood works. I'm impressed by what your investigation was able to turn up all on its own. But you didn't manage to find everything."

Leaning down Ainsley pulled a small key out from under his watch band, using it to open the bottom drawer of his desk where he pulled out a copy of the picture that Dakota had produced, this one faded with age, colours leaching out of it. His was slightly different, though, and he passed it across the desk so she could see. North pulled the picture closer, studying it carefully before realization flashed across her face. "So..." she began slowly, tilting her head to one side as her brain processed this new information. "You were originally a team of five? What happened to the other boy, Mister Ainsley? "

He sighed again, his face serious. "Gregor Hoffman was a bit of a wildcard. An experimenter. Reckless, even. He wanted us to move on from rats and mice and try something more complex. It sounded fun, in theory, but we all knew there were rules to follow. We tried to explain, but that just wasn't good enough for old Gregor. He pushed us, but when we applied to the board, they denied our request. Hoffman didn't like that... and he ranted and railed about it for weeks. When the time for the fair came around, well, we weren't really on speaking terms anymore. We decided to go through without him."

Dakota scrunched up her face in a frown, arms crossing in front of her. "I assume that he didn't take it very well, did he Mister Ainsley?"

"No. He did not, and that is putting it mildly. Hoffman went mad, as far as we could tell. Left threatening messages at our dorms, killed one of Baxter's cats. It escalated fast, but we were all afraid to report it to authorities, we didn't want to anger Gregor any more than we had to. We walked on eggshells for weeks, and then, one day, Gregor just disappeared. We never heard from him again. Some of us couldn't handle the stress. I couldn't, at least. We cut ties, I changed majors, and life went on. I honestly never thought it would come up again, detective. I put it from my mind and went on with my life."

"Unfortunately it appears that not everyone did, Mister Ainsley. Now, why would he kill you all off?" That was the part she couldn't quite piece together.

"We all kept part of the formula, broke it up between the four of us. Left instructions that should one of us kick it, our piece would be delivered to one of the others. I'm the last one left... I have all the pieces. If I die, it won't be hard for Gregor to swoop in and reclaim the formula from my estate."

She had the final piece, now it was time to develop a plan. "Okay Mister Ainsley. If I were someone out to kill you, I'd likely do it over the course of the gala you're hosting. Maybe even after the big shindig tomorrow night. We need to get you protective detail, maybe hire some bodyguards from a private security firm. I'll make some calls. Meanwhile, you aren't leaving my sight until they get here."

Decision made, Dakota began piecing through the case again mentally as she browsed through her phone for a reliable group to hire out. Pacing across the office she moved towards the large window, looking out across the city. Somewhere out there, death waited for the man slouched behind her at his desk.


End file.
